Turncoat
by Orpah
Summary: America has a proposal for Canada. Pre-War of 1812. Little Australia. Rated for language.


Ages, btw:

Australia is below double digits somewhere, Canada is a teenager, and America is an older teenager.

Setting is pre-War of 1812.

I don't own Hetalia! End/AN/

Australia had laid himself across Canada's lap like a blanket, busily flipping through page after page of the animal book. He traced the outline of the mythical zebra, wondering how a horse ended up having stripes like that. The lion caught his imagination most, though; if he were a lion, he would roar and scare everyone away; he could practically feel the roar in his throat, and nearly let it loose, but his summer laziness made it come out as a feeble mumbling mewl.

Canada seemed to awaken at that point, absently stroking down the boy's cowlicks. It did nothing to keep them down, of course, but it was a habit by now. He straightened his glasses, sighing as he saw the smudges on them. "You weren't touching my glasses, were you?"

"Do I look like someone who would touch your glasses?" Australia demanded huffily, though his indignation at the accusation was quickly forgotten as he gazed in wonder at a giraffe; if he had been that tall, he could rescue the shuttlecocks that had made their way onto the roof.

"I think you do," Canada replied, pinching his ear lightly. This earned a disapproving twitch, and Australia flipped himself over.

"Canada, I'm not a baby; you can't just pinch my ears for being naughty." He said this with all the stateliness and solemnity a grubby child could conjure; he let his head fall on the book, surely imprinting it with his sweat.

Canada chuckled, but managed to stop when he saw the look that Australia was giving him. "Of course you're not a baby. Forgive me for ever acting like you were." He raised his hands placatingly as he said this, as though Australia were a force to be reckoned with, instead of just a child with smears of dirt on his face from rooting around in the garden.

Australia seemed to accept this, and flipped back over, digging his knee into Canada's thigh in a particularly painful fashion.

It was slightly humid silence for a while after that, Canada leaning back and letting himself doze while Australia busily put fingerprints all over every page of the book.

He was startled out of his half-asleep state by a piercing scream, as well as being kneed in the gut as Australia fled his lap. "What? Who's there?" Canada wheezed, nearly tripping over Australia as he stood.

"Who the hell is that?" America stood in the doorway, leaning to the side to try to look under the couch, where Australia hid; it was the child's favorite hiding spot, after all.

"America! When did you get in?" Canada was surprised to see him here, that was for sure; it may have been decades since the war between England and America, but there was still tension, which seemed primed to explode.

An easy grin spread across America's face, as he slapped Canada on the back. "Glad to see you too! I actually came to talk to you, not stuffy ass."

"Language!" Canada snapped, without much thinking about it. When America blinked in surprise, he gestured towards the couch, murmuring, "He's only a child…" He cleared his throat, continuing, "What did you want to see me for?"

America glanced about, adding, "That bastard isn't here, is he? I thought I saw him leave…"

It unnerved Canada, like multiple slimy eels in his gut. "I'm his colony, so he might as well be here."

It only seemed to stop America for a moment, because he laughed, saying, "You are not exactly the arm of the empire, Canada." Then the grin dropped from his face, and he leaned in. "This is serious. I'm talking about something that could change both our futures."

Canada fumbled with his glasses, trying to wipe away the smudges while thinking up an answer to that. America couldn't possibly have anything to say on that front that would be good. "America, you know the big decisions are up to England…"

"And you could change all that," America promised, eyes too shiny to be sincere, "by joining me. You could be the 14th state, or more! Think about it, what right does England have to the New World? We have to make our own world order!"

Canada took a shaky step backwards, as he snapped, "What you're suggesting is treason and rebellion! If think I want to get mixed up in that-!"

"Hold your horses, Canada. Just think about it, okay? Imagine the power we would have if we controlled the northern part of this hemisphere!" America's arms were spread wide, as though gesturing to all of the hemisphere. His eyes seemed distant, as though he was envisioning some sort of utopia.

Trying to ease himself out of the conversation, Canada picked up the animal book, closing it softly. "America, I am not getting caught up in this mess between you and England. Not again. Do you understand?"

"Well, you're going to be caught up in it anyway, Canada. If England forces war, well…" America gave him a look that insinuated he was supposed to understand what he was getting at.

Canada's eyes narrowed. "You'd attack me. That's what you're saying." His head seemed to boil at the nerve, the audacity of America to come here and both threaten and cajole him at the same time.

America shrugged, saying, "All's fair in love and war, Canada. But you don't have to be caught between us if you don't want to be. Do something for yourself for once, and join me."

"Like hell I will!" Canada snapped, and there was a solid thunk as the book he was holding collided with America's head. "Leave me the hell alone, you understand?"

America rubbed his head, as he shook it and chuckled. "Well, if that's the way you feel." His eyes connected with Canada's for a moment, and there was something in them: maybe pity, maybe regret. "See you on the battlefield, should it come to that."

"Just get out!"

And with that shout, America was gone.

Australia crawled out from under the couch, wrapping his fingers around Canada's. "Are you going to get hurt?"

Canada huffed out an angry sigh. He choked down the anger, not wanting to scare Australia. "No. America's bluffing, like he always does. He may have taken on England a long time ago, but there's no way he'll be audacious enough to do it again."

As Australia cuddled against him reassuringly, promising that 'I'll be your warrior if it does happen!', Canada could only think, _I hope._

/AN/ I kind of missed doing Savage, so think of this as a sort of AU deleted scene. Also, I am so stuck in my novel; it's like I was a train going full speed and splat! Into a brick wall. Grrr. Just writing to try to get writing again.


End file.
